


Those Ties That Bind You

by Saesama



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Cultural Differences, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Contracts, Marriage Proposal, Politics, Strange Magic Secret Santa, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:51:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saesama/pseuds/Saesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawn learns that Marianne and Bog aren't going to be married, for political reasons. This is clearly unacceptable.</p><p>(For the Strange Magic Secret Santa)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Ties That Bind You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ohtd_luv4ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohtd_luv4ever/gifts).



> Ohtd_luv4ever was my recipient for the Secret Santa. The prompt I got was Butterflybog and Potionless, and domestic fluff, and what's more domestic for a new couple than paperwork and wedding planning?

“And I'm thinking,” Dawn gushed, twisting lilac petals into Sunny’s hair, “all of the guards can wear primrose capes. _I’m_ not wearing primroses, that’s just _asking_ for bad luck. But you know, primroses will tie the whole look together and they kind of _did_ start this whole shebang.”

“Hn.” Bog didn't look up from his parchment, absently tapping his grass quill against his chin. “You can race the goblins to the petals,” he said. “I'll even send just the little ones, make it a fair fight.”

Dawn pouted and stuck her tongue out at Bog. “Marianne,” she complained, “Bog is being a jerk.”

“He does that,” Marianne replied, chewing on her own quill. “Do you think the old Fae were referencing moonlight here, or cyanide?”

Dawn rolled her eyes, the longest of sufferers. “Sunny,” she tried again, “Bog is threatening our wedding plans. Go beat him up.”

Sunny tilted his head back to blink at Dawn, then looked over at Bog. Bog didn't look up, but he casually picked one of his overly long nails between his teeth, his lip curled up out of the way. “Well,” Sunny sighed, “I hate to die before the wedding, but I suppose going out as a goblin’s dinner isn't so bad.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Bog drawled. “Fairies are for the dinner table. Elves are much better suited to breakfast.” He grimaced in pain when Marianne kicked him in the shin.

“Ugh, you're all terrible.” Dawn flopped back, her arms spread wide on the table behind her. “None of you are invited to my wedding.”

“A shame.” Another kick, and Bog yelped this time. “Are you _trying_ to crack my shell?”

“Trust me,” Marianne said, looking up from her ancient scroll for the first time in an hour. “If I was trying, you'd know it.”

Bog’s grin bared all of his teeth. “Is that so?”

“Oh boy,” Dawn said dryly. “I can't wait to plan your guys wedding. Should I forego the pulpit and just have the aisles lead to a fighting pit?”

Both Bog and Marianne snorted. “Come on, Dawn,” Marianne said. “We're not getting married.”

“Wait, what?” Dawn sat upright in a hurry, almost dislodging Sunny from where he was leaning back against her legs. “What do you _mean,_ you're not getting married? I didn't sign off on this!”

Marianne winced and looked at Bog, who threw up his hands. “You spilled,” he said. “ _You_ get to explain it.”

Marianne sighed and set down her parchment. “There are a lot of complicated rules around royal marriages,” she said, tenting her fingers together, “both here and in the Dark Forest. And a lot of them have to do with who succeeds who, who's authority trumps who, and the joining of kingdoms. As fond of Bog as I am, neither he, nor I, nor anyone else, wants to merge the kingdoms into one, and the legal headache for keeping them separate would probably cause a war.”

Dawn stared at her sister, her jaw hanging open. “So, what?” she demanded, gesturing sharply with both hands. “You're just… not going to do it?”

“Wow,” Sunny said, hopping up onto the bench at Dawn’s side. “You two have literally taken on entire kingdoms, and you're defeated by paperwork?”

Marianne scowled, subsiding when Bog dropped his hand to her shoulder. “Let them poke their fun,” he said. “When they go through their own paperwork, they'll realize their mistake.”

Dawn and Sunny shared a wary look. “What paperwork?” Dawn asked slowly.

It was amazing how similar a goblin and a fairy could look, when both sported wide, toothy, too-sweet grins. “Dawn is a titled princess,” Bog said, gesturing with his quill. “Which means you two get to sit down and go through her every asset to determine how much say Sunny has in each. Every. Single. One. And I’m fair certain they’re referencing arsenic, Marianne.”

Dawn’s jaw dropped. Sunny looked grey under his freckles. “Can’t we just do this the way elves do?” he asked plaintively. “What’s mine is yours is ours and everything is shared?”

Marianne gasped dramatically, splaying her hand across her chest. “Why, Sunny!” she exclaimed. "I didn’t know you were interested in becoming another heir to the throne!”

Sunny blanched. “No!” He waved his hands before himself in a warding gesture. “No no no, no one wants _my_ little butt anywhere _near_ the throne.”

Dawn slid her arm around Sunny’s shoulders and kissed his brow. “I’d be honored to have your cute little butt on the throne with me,” she smiled into his hair. Sunny’s ears went pink and Bog gave a rather spectacular eyeroll. “Okay,” Dawn continued, making another face at the goblin. “I see your point. But I still think you guys should get married!”

Bog sighed and picked up his parchment again. “We’ve declared each other our consorts,” he said. “It accords certain rights, almost as many as an heir has. It’s enough, Dawn.”

“Besides,” Marianne added. “Can you see Bog in fairy wedding finery? He’d shred it every time he moved. And there’s no way they’re talking about arsenic, there’s no reference to apples. Sunbeams, maybe? Or belladonna?”

o o o

“I’m dying,” Sunny groaned into the tabletop.

“Me first,” Dawn groaned right back, rubbing her temples.

Three days. _Three days_ of sitting in a clerk’s office, going over the many, many titles and holds under Dawn’s name. _Three days_ of legal terms and haughty sniffs and careful explanations of every one of her responsibilities. She knew she was overdue for this conversation anyway, as she’d only came of age in the spring. At least this way, she only had to do it once, and she had Sunny with her. 

_But three days_.

Her spine ached and her head hurt and she never wanted to see her own name in writing again. But now she knew exactly how much legal standing she had in the kingdom, how much power she could wield on the strength of her name and blood alone. By law, Sunny wouldn’t be able to share a lot of that power, safeguards set in place to keep an ambitious commoner from bamboozling the royal family and taking over. The clout he would carry, however, was impressive, especially for an elf. He’d become nobility, his bloodline elevated for at least seven generations, longer if their descendants made matches at their caste. He wouldn’t become a prince, but their children stood in line for the throne, behind whatever children Marianne decided to have with Bog. _If_ Marianne decided to have children with Bog. She could very well swear off motherhood and leave the business of heirs to Dawn.

Dawn wasn’t sure which would throw the kingdom into a worse tizzy; if the heirs to the fairy throne were descendant from an elven commoner, or from goblin royalty. The thought made her smile.

But hey, at least they were done, armed with knowledge and signed contracts and a pair of exhausted headaches. Legally, in the eyes of the kingdom’s many clerks, they were married, bound together by writ and deed. The wedding itself wasn’t until midsummer, but Dawn allowed herself a private, giddy moment. From a paperwork perspective, she was a _wife_.

Sunny was watching her, his cheek still smooshed against the table, his smile warm and affectionate. “And so it begins,” he murmured, taking her hand. “There’s still time to back out.”

“Shush.” Dawn wagged her finger at him. “No getting cold feet now. You’re stuck with me, because I am _not_ going through that again.”

“Ugh, yeah.” Sunny sat upright, stretching with a groan, though he didn’t let go of her hand. The clerk was already gone but the sun was still far from setting. “Wanna go for a walk? If I sit here any longer, my ‘cute little butt’ is going to fuse with the chair and grow roots.”

“Absolutely.” Now that the clerk was gone, and the long stream of complicated words ended, the reality of the situation settled beneath Dawn’s skin. She wasn’t wed, but she was _married_. It was so weird and amazing.

They strolled the castle hand in hand, slow and leisurely. The windows were thrown wide to let as much of the breeze through as possible, and the warmth of the stone with the cool of the shade was a heavenly combination. Dawn felt like she was floating even with both feet on the ground. Even before… everything, she often grounded herself for Sunny’s sake. Never once had he felt like an anchor holding her back, and maybe she should have taken that as a sign.

Oh well. The past was the past and the present was here, painted in broad swaths of afternoon gold and lazy summer heat, tinged with the knowledge that she was no longer a single entity but a duality, one of a pair. Despite her exhaustion, she felt like she could walk across the entire kingdom, as long as Sunny was there to hold her hand.

“Miss Dawn! Mister Sunny!”

The loud, clear voice didn’t shatter the perfection of the afternoon, but it did give it new dimension, one rendered in bulging eyes and crooked teeth. Thang hustled down the hall from the receiving chambers, his broad feet slapping noisily against the stone. He clutched what looked like a stack of leaves in one hand and if his grin stretched any wider, the top of his head would fall off. Dawn lowered herself to her knees so the little goblin didn’t have to crane his neck to look up at her. “Hi, Thang,” she greeted. “Is Bog coming to the castle tonight?”

Thang shook his head, his ears rippling with the movement. “Not tonight, princess,” he said. “I’m here alone, to see you two!” He looked so proud of himself that Dawn couldn’t help her own grin. The flight from Bog’s castle was a long one for a goblin alone, even with the tentative new peace between the kingdoms. He shuffled through his stack of leaves and plucked two out, each marked with some kind of dark ink in a pattern of overlapping circles. “Stuff and I want to invite you to our Binding,” he said, his chest puffed out as he handed them the leaves. 

“Your Binding?” Dawn asked, peering at the leaf. “Is that like a wedding?”

The air escaped out of Thang’s chest. “Kind of?” he hedged. “It’s not really; weddings are love and contracts. A Binding is just a promise.” His eyes grew wide and solemn. “A very, very important promise, to take care of each other and help feed the kids and, yeah.” If goblins could blush, Thang would be scarlet. “Stuff asked and I said yes,” he finished, his voice gone wobbly and awestruck.

Dawn squeaked and threw her arms around the goblin in a tight hug. “Congratulations!” she crowed. “Oh Thang, I’m so happy for you both!”

“That’s awesome, man!” Sunny added, lightly punching Thang in the shoulder. “But we’re gonna need details, you know. When is it? What do we wear? Do we bring a gift?”

“You don’t have Bindings here, do you?” Thang asked, his nose wrinkling. 

“Nope!” Dawn chirruped, standing again. “So you’re going to have to tell us _all_ about it. Let’s go somewhere that isn’t the middle of a hallway, huh?”

o o o

“Man,” Sunny said, his arms tucked under his head. “Everyone’s getting hooked up this summer.”

“Mm-hm.” Dawn sighed, her head resting on Sunny’s stomach. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

Thang had talked to them for hours, until well after he should have headed back home, and Dawn had sent him back with an escort. The Binding was a public event, held at the new moon, with upwards of a dozen pairs dedicating themselves to each other before a goblin elder and anyone in the Dark Forest who wished to attend. There was usually a lot of singing and food and cheerful brawls; a total goblin festival.

Sunny wiggled one hand loose to thread it through Dawn’s hair, lightly scratching her scalp. “Except the royal dweebs, that is,” he said. Dawn sighed again, far less content. “I’d never have expected that, you know?” Sunny continued. “I mean, they fought tooth and nail for each other for all of last summer. You’d think they wouldn’t let laws they can override stop a wedding.”

Dawn made a face at the sky. After Thang left, they had climbed up to the roof of the palace, leeching the day’s warmth from the stone while they watched the stars come out. “Marianne’s _different_ ,” she said, slurring the word into a sarcastic insult, the way those wretched bats in court did. “But she takes the princess thing super seriously. Laws are the only thing that keeps us from being goblins, you know.”

Sunny laughed, his belly shaking beneath Dawn’s head. “You know, I haven’t heard her use that one since That Night.”

“Well, seeing as Bog has even more laws on the books than we do…” Sunny laughed harder and Dawn twisted to grin up at him. “It’s so weird, isn’t it? The ‘wild, lawless goblins’ are about the most disciplined people I’ve ever met.”

“And I don’t think,” Sunny hiccuped, “that it’s just because the Bog King is scary. They have different levels of _marriage_ , of all things. I think they’re just like that. And I think _they’re_ not fighting for a wedding because it’s romantic and gushy and gross.”

Dawn hummed an agreement, but something in his words caught at her attention. He was right; neither Bog nor Marianne did the typical romantic mushy stuff very often, and never in public. And a wedding _was_ a really big deal. But Bog was a goblin. And goblin weddings had different levels. They were already consorts, but that was just paperwork instead of a declaration and-

“Dawn?”

Sunny was sitting up on an elbow, staring down at her in concern. She looked up at him and thought of the happy pride on Thang’s face. “You think they’d join the Binding?” she asked.

o o o

They asked Stuff and Thang, first. Dawn’s question wasn’t even finished before Stuff was bellowing for Griselda and Thang hugged Dawn’s knees. 

o o o

The Binding happened on top of a broad, flat stone set in the bowl of a mossy hollow. The top was etched with deep, dark grooves, in the same circle pattern that was on Thang’s leaf invites. A hoary old goblin that looked like he could be Bog’s uncle stood on top of the stone, peering at the assembled and occasionally harrumphing to himself. He gave a long look at the Fair folk when they arrived, but he didn’t seem too disapproving. Bog and Marianne had spent most of the previous fall earning the approval of the various goblin elders, always by force and usually at sword point. They respected power, and very few of them could argue with a fairy able to knock them on their craggy butts.

Dawn clutched Marianne’s arm and pointed out goblins she knew and the pairs to be Bound. They were an eclectic bunch, Stuff and Thang the smallest of the half-dozen pairs. Each of them had circlets of loosely woven pine needles on their heads, bright green representations of a promise that wouldn’t fade. They were to walk to the fire in the center of the stone, push their circlets together to interlock them, then throw them in the flames. After that came food, and song, and someone would probably challenge Marianne to a friendly fight. And six pairs would leave the grounds in the morning, hung over and grimacing at each other as they set off into a new life together.

Dawn hoped to make it seven.

Marianne, to her credit, was trying to pay attention, but she kept looking around for Bog. He’d been held up by some business or other, some kind of complaint by someone of high enough rank that it couldn’t be easily brushed aside. Hopefully, it would be a quick matter.

“This _is_ a good idea, right?” Sunny muttered nervously, bouncing on his toes. Immediately after Dawn formulated her Awesome Plan, Sunny had pointed out that unless the stars aligned and their moods were just right, both of the Royal Grumps were more likely to throw a fit than go through with any kind of sappy ritual. 

“It’s the best idea,” Griselda muttered back, while Marianne was distracted by peering over the crowd. “Watch her face when my boy shows up and tell me I’m wrong.”

A trumpet announced Bog’s arrival before any of them caught sight of him. Dawn grinned and watched Marianne instead. Marianne’s eyes were so _warm_ whenever Bog was around; even if she was doing the unaffected princess bit, she couldn’t completely mask her true feelings. It was _adorable_.

Marianne managed to tear her away from the approaching shadow of her consort, all of a sudden very aware of Dawn grinning at her. “What?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” Dawn answered, her grin going as wide as any goblin’s. 

Marianne scoffed and shoved her away. Dawn giggled and Marianne rolled her eyes before she lifted off to greet Bog mid-air, the last moment of relative privacy they’d probably have all day. Bog’s scowl visibly lessened when Marianne approached and Griselda gave a happy sigh.

Once, Bog would have blanched and immediately moved away from Marianne once he realized he had an audience. Now, he drifted to the ground with Marianne’s hand in his own, giving the elder a respectful nod as he went. Marianne was fighting a smile and Dawn’s grin hurt her cheeks. This was going to be the _best_ idea.

“Sire!” Thang’s timing was impeccable, as usual. He shoved his way past the kneecaps of the rest of the crowd, almost vibrating in glee. “You came!”

Bog’s ears turned two shades darker. “Yes, uh. Well. This is an… important da-” His words abruptly died when Thang hugged him about the shin. When a brief shake didn’t dislodge the goblin, Bog sighed, rolling his eyes hard enough to hurt. “This is the only time you get to do that,” he warned.

“I know,” Thang simpered. He didn’t actually let go until Stuff peeled him off, and it looked like he was holding back tears.

Bog squinted around at the various pairs, frowning absently. “Six,” he muttered. “Not a very auspicious number.”

Marianne huffed a laugh. “‘Auspicious’?” she teased. “You guys have lucky numbers?”

Bog scowled at her. “Numbers have power, fairy,” he said, then he looked at his mother. “Mom, I know you were in on the planning this time. Couldn't you find a seventh pair?”

“Oh I know, sweetie.” Griselda’s deep sigh of regret fooled exactly no one. “But with the food to arrange, and the transport, and getting old Rushbite out from under his rock, I plain didn't have time!”

Dawn tapped her chin with a finger. “Well,” she began slowly, “there was that _one_ couple we were going to ask…”

“But they were even busier!” Griselda huffed. 

“Too bad,” Sunny lamented. “I think they would have liked this.”

“Yes, much too bad-”

“A real shame, actually, since I know they care a lot about each other-”

“Can't hardly get them apart!”

“And they've already made a lot of promises to each other…”

“It's all ve-”

“Please, _stop_.”

Three mouths snapped shut and all eyes turned up to the royal pair. Neither Bog nor Marianne were stupid, and both wore nearly identical pained grimaces. “You can't be serious,” Bog said, his voice flat.

“We've told all of you,” Marianne added. “We're not getting married.”

Bog’s grimace deepened. “It's, ah, not a _marriage_ ,” he said, faltering when Marianne stared at him incredulously. “But that’s not the point! Point is, we're not doing it, we don’t even have-” His words caught when Dawn held up two evergreen circlets with a smile. “You _planned_ this?!”

“We brought spares,” Griselda corrected. “In case someone got hungry, or we found someone to round out the party.” 

“We're not here to round out the party!” Marianne threw up her hands. “We're here for Thang and Stuff-”

“The more, the merrier,” Stuff shrugged, Thang nodding at her side.

Marianne made a deeply frustrated noise, that cut off when Bog tilted his head, looking at her. “Oh no,” she warned. “No no no, don’t _even._ ”

“It’s not a wedding,” Bog repeated. He smiled, crooked and sincere. “How about it, princess? Make me an honest goblin?”

Marianne stared for half a beat, then laughed, a little helplessly. “You dork,” she said. “I can’t believe you. What kind of proposal is that?”

Bog straightened, towering proud and regal over everyone else. “Princess Marianne,” he said, all of a sudden very serious. He gathered Marianne’s hands in his own and her breath stopped for a heartbeat. “Would you do me the honor of Binding your life to mine?”

All of the fight left Marianne in a slow exhale. “Dork,” she murmured, warm and soft. “Of course.” Bog’s crooked smile returned and Marianne matched him with one of her own, her cheeks gone pink.

Dawn almost wanted to swoon. She settled for giggling and waving the evergreen circlets. 

Marianne snatched the two circlets out of Dawn’s hands, plopping one on top of her own head. “Don’t you think,” she warned, as Bog obligingly bent so she could arrange his. “That this is over.”

Bog’s eyes cut sideways to glare at Dawn and Griselda. “It certainly is not. We are all going to sit down and discuss the consequences of tricking a King when this is done.”

“Oh, shush,” Griselda flapped her hands. “Go get Bound, all of you. If Rushbite has to stay outside any longer, he might melt.”

Thang and Stuff squeezed themselves back through the crowd, while Marianne and Bog took the easier route of flying over. The assembled began to hoot, delighted, as their king and his consort joined the pairs lined up along the edge of the stone. Bog scowled at them over his shoulder, but Marianne laced her fingers with his and the crowd only got louder. Sunny hooked his fingers between his lips and whistled and it was Marianne’s turn to send a baleful look back. Dawn waved, her cheeks aching from so much smiling.

They all fell silent when the elder - Rushbite, Griselda had called him? - thumped his short staff against the stone. Moving with ceremonial slowness, the old goblin shuffled over to the fire pit at the center of the stone, set into the overlap of the engraved circles. It was already stacked with bark strips and interwoven with primrose petals, the only legal use for the flowers in the Dark Forest; even with his ban on love, Bog hadn’t banned these rituals, citing that they were good for public order and morale. Rushbite picked up a bowl of something liquid and poured it over the stacked bark, careful to not let it splash on himself. He set it down and retrieved what appeared to be a strip of some kind of plant. Standing as far back as he could, he stretched his arm over the pit to drop the strip.

There was a pause, and the fire roared to life, spitting green sparks. Everyone made low sounds of awe and Dawn clapped, delighted. Did the goblins know how to make other colors?

Pair by pair, the goblins approached the flames. They each held their circlets over their heads, so all could witness the way the needles interlocked as they were pushed together. They threw them into the flames as one, more green sparks roaring out of the otherwise normal fire. Each pair was met with calls and shouts from their friends as they finished, though none of them walked away without an approving nod from Rushbite. The elder scrutinized each pair for a long moment before releasing them, though he said nothing the entire time.

Stuff and Thang were second to last. They both nearly froze up when it was their turn, their hands locked tight enough together that Stuff’s knuckles went pale and Thang’s bones creaked. Bog glanced down and surreptitiously nudged Thang’s backside with the butt of his staff. Thang jumped and started forward, pulling Stuff with him. 

It was easier once they got to the pit. Stuff’s lips were pressed to a thin line, but the fins of her ears fluttered happily as she pulled off her circlet. Thang still looked like he couldn’t believe what was happening, his grin wide and dreamy as he lifted his own circlet. The needles interlocked smoothly and the sparks flew high when they threw them into the fire. Rushbite almost, _almost_ smiled at them, something gone soft behind his mossy beard. Sunny whistled again and Thang started to tear up, overcome. Stuff sighed gustily and threw Thang over her narrow shoulder to march off of the stone, to great approval from the surrounding goblins.

And then there was one. Two. Whatever. Dawn bit at her knuckle, concerned. Technically, they could still back out at this point. But Marianne had wanted a wedding since she was six summers old and Bog had asked with surprisingly little prompting and the two grumps loved each other and as far as the Dark Forest was concerned, this was their permission to do more than make moony eyes at each other and maybe hold hands. Maybe they’d finally realize that they were allowed to have nice things.

They glanced at each other and crossed the stone to the pit. Marianne lifted her circlet off and paused, wincing, when it snagged on her hair. Bog raised a brow at her but ran his hand under the circlet edge to free it, murmuring something that made Marianne scowl up at him. Bog gave her a smug smile and lifted his circlet up, just barely out of her reach. Marianne’s scowl deepened and rather than fly up, she hooked her arm around Bog’s neck and yanked herself up, her knee looped over his lower back for support as she shoved her circlet against his. Dawn wasn’t sure if Bog’s face said that he was delighted or that he regretted his teasing. Possibly both.

Marianne dropped back to the ground, still pressed against Bog’s side as they tossed their circlets into the fire. Rushbite watched the sparks flare, then squinted at the pair, his eyes ticking from goblin to fairy and back. Finally, he nodded, no, he bowed, he _bowed_ , all of the Dark Forest elders were crotchety old bastards who had no obligation to bow to their king but Rushbite did, his hand on his middle as he dipped low enough for his beard to brush his arm. Bog’s eyes went wide and Marianne’s jaw dropped, but they recovered enough to give respectful, appropriate nods, their hands overlapping on the dark metal of Bog’s staff between them. 

The fire flared once more and went out, the embers smoldering green.

Bog turned and looked out over the silent, awestruck goblins. “Isn’t there a party you all should be attending?” he asked. His words were met with a roar of approval. Rushbite rolled his eyes.

o o o

It was late, very late, so late it was early again. Dawn yawned and scooted closer to Sunny, mostly hidden from view beneath a canopy of broad leaves. Sunny yawned back, his arm curled around Dawn’s shoulders, his fingers lightly trailing along the base of her wing. Below their perch, tired goblins still shuffled here and there, looking to make nests of their own.

Dawn stretched a little to place a soft, sleepy kiss on the underside of Sunny’s jaw. “I was thinking,” she murmured, dropping her head back to his shoulder. “We should ask Bog if it’s okay to work pine needles into our headdresses for the wedding.”

“Yeah?” Sunny squeezed her shoulders briefly, smiling into her hair. “That’s a great idea.”

“Mm, thanks.” Dawn closed her eyes, listening to Sunny’s heartbeat, letting the steady rhythm coax her to sleep. Soon enough, she’d be able to do this every night, and the thought bloomed warm through her chest.

“‘Course, you realize, we’d be obligated to burn the whole thing after, right?” Dawn poked him in the ribs and he subsided, laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> (slight title change because I didn't know a butterflyobsession already had a work by 'Those Chains that Bind You'. My B!)


End file.
